Casus belli
by crazy-dreams
Summary: During a seemingly routine murder investigation, Goren and Eames take on a young woman who seems equally determined to prevent them from solving the case. WIP
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Characters you recognise belong to Dick Wolf. But Christmas is coming and I've been a *****very* good girl this year….

**Author's note:** Welcome to my first LOCI fic. Many thanks to Tracy and Marie for beta-ing.

_Casus belli_: an occasion for war

Part One   
  
  


The August sun inched a fraction higher in the sky over Central Park. It wasn't even 8 A.M. yet, but already Alex Eames could tell the day was going to be another scorcher. Not a happy thought for Alex, who traced many of life's little annoyances back to the soaring of the thermostat. Today was a perfect example. Alex **never** overslept, but this morning, after a restless night spent unable to sleep due to the sticky heat, she was woken by the incessant ringing of her phone. Her partner's voice, sounding equally unimpressed by the early hour, had then informed her they had a case. 

Now, Alex reluctantly dropped the remains of her coffee in a nearby trash can before ducking under the crime-scene tape. Nothing like a dead body before breakfast, she thought sarcastically. A curt nod to the ME, and Detective Eames was down to business, crouching over the body and quickly assessing the scene. The victim was male, mid-fifties, wearing running shorts, jogging shoes, and a t-shirt with a knife-handle sticking out of the breast pocket. 

A tall figure cast a shadow over Alex, and she stood up to face her partner. 

"So how did he die?" 

The look on Bobby Goren's face told her he considered it too early in the morning for that kind of humor. 

Alex, however, had a better question. "We got an ID?" 

"No wallet or car keys, so I'm guessing he lives nearby," her partner replied. 

"Or the killer took them," Alex suggested. 

"There are no pockets in his shorts," Bobby explained, evidently having examined the scene quite thoroughly already. 

"You got a theory?" asked Alex, expecting her partner to walk through the murder as he usually did. 

But Bobby just shook his head. "The body was moved," he explained, a degree of frustration in his voice as he scanned the vicinity. 

Alex took a step closer, as if to calm and reassure him in some manner. "Witnesses?" she asked. This part of the park was usually buzzing with early morning joggers on nice days like this. 

Goren's face brightened. "She's waiting to be interviewed." 

"You gonna buy me some breakfast first?" Alex asked hopefully. 

"Now why would I do that?" 

"Because it's the polite thing to do when you wake a girl up." 

"And what do you usually get first thing in the morning?" 

"Wouldn't you like to know." She raised her eyebrows and wondered if Bobby was aware just how flirtatious he sounded. Then Alex realized _she_ had in fact started it and was now just standing there, grinning at him like a big goof. She promptly shifted to complete-professional mode. 

"Interview?" 

"After you."

*  *  *  *   
  


Captain Deakins met the detectives on their arrival at One Police Plaza. "We've got an ID on your vic, Dennis Ryder, lives on East 86th. His girlfriend was getting worried that he hadn't returned from his run when she heard about the body on the radio and called us. And the woman found with the body's in interview room one," he advised. 

The officer at the door of the interview room handed Detective Eames a thin file. "Cassandra Stamios, 21 years old, no priors." 

"Thanks." Alex followed her partner into the room where a blonde woman was seated, her pretty face marred by an angry purple bruise on her right cheek. 

"Cassandra, I'm Detective Goren, this is Detective Eames. We need to ask you a few questions. First, is there anything you want to tell us?" 

The woman shook her head. 

"Okay, let's start with what you were doing in the park this morning," said Goren. 

"I was just walking." 

"You live nearby?" 

"No. I stayed at a friend's place last night, I was heading home." 

"What time?" 

"Ah, between six thirty and seven," Cassandra guessed. 

"Mmm-hmm," Bobby nodded and jotted something down in his notebook. "Tell us what happened." 

"I noticed the guy in the bushes, and I went to make sure he was okay." 

"That's when you moved the body?" 

"Yeah, I pulled him out onto the path." 

"You didn't call 911?" Eames asked. 

"I didn't have my cell on me. Even if I did, I doubt I would have thought of it. I was pretty freaked. I've never seen a dead body before, and I didn't know what to do. That's when the cops showed up." 

"Uh huh," Bobby vocalized. 

"And that's it, end of story." The witness appeared eager to leave. 

"Do you know a Dennis Ryder?" Goren asked suddenly, studying Cassandra's face carefully for any hint of a reaction. 

"No." She said the word calmly and evenly, but Goren detected the tiniest of pauses before she responded. He glanced at Eames. His partner had spotted it too.

Cassandra noticed the look they shared. She knew they knew, and her eyes narrowed. "Is that the guy's name?" she asked, quickly regaining her composure and feigning innocence. 

Neither Bobby nor Alex responded. 

"Is that painful?" Bobby asked, gesturing to the bruise on her cheek. 

Cassandra touched her face gingerly. "No." 

"You should use ice to at least keep the swelling down," he offered. 

"Thanks for the advice." Her voice dripped with sarcasm. 

"How'd you get the bruise, Cassandra?" Eames asked bluntly. 

"I don't remember." The tone of her voice challenged the detectives to refute her. 

"Was it Ryder?" asked Eames. "Were you having a relationship with him? He hit you, and you decided to get him back?"

"I already told you, I don't know the guy. And I don't appreciate your hostile attitude," Cassandra told Eames. 

"Well if it wasn't him, was it somebody else?" Eames persisted, ignoring the personal remark. "Somebody who wants to make sure you keep quiet about a murder?" 

"No one hit me." 

Cassandra was beginning to look agitated, Eames noted with satisfaction. 

"Okay." Goren took over in good cop mode. He leaned over the table slightly and looked at their suspect earnestly. "But if someone else is hurting or threatening you, we can help." 

She stared back at him for a moment before leaning back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest. "Sorry to shatter any manly fantasies you may be harboring, but I don't need a knight in shining Armani. I don't want your help, and I can't help you. I don't know anything about the dead guy; so unless you're going to charge me with something, I'd like to be going now." 

Goren and Eames exchanged glances. 

Goren closed his notebook over, and threw his hands in the air. "Fine." 

Eames held the door open for Cassandra. "We'll be in touch."   
  


*  *  *  *   
  


"Cassandra, prophet of disaster," Goren said as they left the room. 

"She didn't like you very much," Alex noted. 

"Well, she didn't exactly warm to you either." 

"My heart breaks," said Alex. "No, wait, that's my stomach. You still owe me breakfast." She prodded her partner's chest with her index finger. 

"There's an apple on my desk," he offered. 

"It's been there for a week!" 

"So?" 

"It's gross." 

"There's that 'hostile attitude' again." Bobby shook his head, scolding her playfully. 

"Watch it, or I might shatter another of those 'manly fantasies,'" Alex warned darkly. After a furtive glance around the room, she then snitched a donut off a nearby desk and polished it off before the owner could come back to claim it. Perez wouldn't mind, Alex told herself. Mmm… jelly center. 

"Hey, who stole my donut?" Officer Perez appealed, returning to his desk with a cup of coffee in hand. 

Alex, picture of innocence, pointed to Bobby. 

Perez shook his head in disgust. "Uncool, man."

Alex smiled to herself and steadfastly avoided Bobby's gaze as they made their way to Deakins' office. 

"Hey, Eames, you got a little…" Bobby reached over and wiped icing sugar off Alex's chin. "Evidence." He licked his fingers. "Yum." 

Thrown off balance, it took Alex a minute to follow him through the door.   
  


*  *  *  * 

"So what do you think?" The Captain asked, referring to their interview with Cassandra. 

"She seemed sincere at first," Alex offered. 

"She's good," Bobby conceded. 

"But?" Deakins asked. 

Goren didn't respond directly. "Did you notice her watch?" he asked Alex. 

Alex nodded. "Men's Rolex." 

Deakins shrugged. "I have a Rolex. It cost my sister ten bucks in Thailand." 

"She was overcharged," Bobby advised him. 

"This one was genuine," Alex insisted. 

"How do you know?" asked Deakins. 

"Because she was trying to hide it." 

"Was Ryder wearing a watch?" 

"Yep," Eames confirmed. "Omega." 

"So she didn't lift his watch." 

"No. But there's something about her…" Goren trailed off, struggling to articulate a reason for his sixth sense. "She knows more than she's saying," he said finally. 

"There's no obvious connection between her and the vic." Deakins read off the file. "Dennis Ryder, 55 years old, divorced, two adult children, Jennifer and Samuel. His girlfriend's Laura Matthews. She's expecting you." 

*  *  *  *  
  
An attractive, but fragile-looking brunette opened the door, and after introductions, she invited them inside the elegant apartment. 

"I'm sorry for your loss," Bobby offered. 

"Thank you," said Laura. "I know you need to question me, but I can already tell you I have no idea why anyone would want to kill Dennis." 

"How long had the two of you been together?" Alex asked. 

"Almost nine months." 

Bobby wandered the room, pausing to examine photographs on the bookshelf. Dennis and Laura on a golf course; Dennis and Laura, dressed for a ball; Dennis and a smiling teenager, presumable his daughter, at her high school graduation. "We'd like to speak to Dennis' children," he said. 

"Jenny's in California. UCLA. She's got a flight back tomorrow." 

"She didn't come home for the summer?" asked Alex. 

"No. She rarely does. Her boyfriend, all her friends, her whole life is over there now," Laura said. 

Bobby spotted another photo, of Jenny again, this time with her fairer-haired younger brother. "What about Samuel?" 

"He comes and goes. He's been upstate with friends the past couple of days. He said he'd be back this evening." 

"Was Dennis close to his children?" Bobby asked. 

"As close as any family, I guess. There was no animosity between them, if that's what you're asking," Laura replied, somewhat defensively. 

"Was he having any problems at work then?" Alex queried. "Did he seem overly stressed lately?" 

Laura shook her head. "No more than usual." 

"Do you know a Cassandra Stamios?" 

"No," Laura answered Bobby. "Should I?" 

"Dennis never mentioned the name?" 

"Not that I remember." 

"Okay, thank you for your time, Ms Matthews. If you think of anything that might be helpful, please call us," Eames handed the woman a card. 

"I will." 

"I just have one last question," said Goren. "Did Dennis have a will?" 

"I assume so." 

"You assume?" 

"We never talked about it. His lawyer is Edward Griffiths, ask him." 

"We will, thank you." 

*  *  *  *  
  


Deakins checked in with Goren and Eames again later in the day. 

"We've come up with nothing from his business records," Eames reported. 

Deakins wasn't surprised. "A wealthy man is dead, so the obvious place to look is the family. See who has the most to gain." 

"I don't think the girlfriend's involved, she seemed sincere," Alex looked to Bobby who nodded in agreement. "And the children were out of town," she continued. 

"Let's go back to this girl, Cassandra. I know there's something there." Bobby had a look of intense concentration on his face as he paced the room. He pivoted around to face Deakins and Eames. "I want to search her apartment." 

"With a warrant based on what evidence?" Alex asked. "We have no real reason to doubt her story."

Detective Goren exhaled forcefully. "I know. What about surveillance?" he looked to Deakins. 

"I can't justify authorizing that." The Captain shook his head. "Of course, I can't control what the two of you do when you're off duty…" 

Bobby dropped the file on the desk, open to the sheet listing Cassandra Stamios' address. "So, Eames, you busy tonight?"

  
Alex made no attempt to stifle her groan. 

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Big thanks to Marie for correcting my grammar and translating into American; Tracy, for bestowing her approval; and everyone else, both at ff.net and amorous intent, for the positive feedback. 

Part Two 

"I thought you didn't mind surveillance?" Bobby watched Alex squirm uncomfortably in her seat. They had been sitting outside Cassandra Stamios' apartment for almost an hour. 

"I don't mind the surveillance, but I hate the heat," Alex confessed. 

The sun had gone down, but the same couldn't be said of the temperature, and the last place Alex wanted to be was trapped inside a hot car. She pulled her hair away from the back of her sticky neck and piled it atop her head. However, with nothing to secure it there, strands began to fall immediately back across her face. Alex scowled and dropped her hands to her lap in resignation.

Bobby's mouth curved upwards as he watched her, and his amusement didn't escape Alex's attention. She focused her scowl on him and was about to comment, when, across the street, Cassandra Stamios stepped outside and into a waiting cab.

Alex started the engine and welcomed the cool blast of air on her face.

*  *  *  *

The detectives followed the cab to a trendy-looking bar where Cassandra, dressed for the occasion, jumped the short line and kissed the bouncer on the cheek before sashaying through the door.

"Not too traumatized by her adventure this morning," Alex commented.  

"Bella Rina. Ever heard of it?" Bobby asked, reading the name off a glowing sign out front. 

"Nope."

"Let's go and check it out."

"There's no parking," Alex complained. 

Bobby scanned the street, anxious not to lose their suspect. "Over there. In front of the hydrant," he pointed. "We'll get Deakins to take care of the ticket."

"Detective Goren!" Alex chastised. "What if there's a fire?"

"If the car gets towed, I accept full responsibility."  
  


"Can I have that in writing?" Alex asked as she maneuvered the car into the spot.

*  *  *  *

The scantily girl in front of them appeared no older than 16, but the bouncer let her through, no questions asked. Not recognizing them, he stood in front of Bobby and Alex. "ID." He demanded suspiciously, giving himself time to scan their outfits and dream up a dress-code violation. When he looked back up, both were flashing their badges with authoritative, yet slightly amused looks on their faces. The bouncer stood aside.

Once inside, Bobby and Alex weaved their way towards the bar through the crowd, a mixture of upper class college kids and after-work professionals. 

"Hey!" Alex protested, whirling around instinctively.

"What?" Bobby stopped.

"Some guy just pinched my butt," she said indignantly. _Way to show I don't get out much these days_, Alex thought, cringing mentally. 

Thankfully, Bobby didn't seem to see it that way; or if he did, he didn't comment. Instead, her partner placed a protective hand on Alex's lower back and steered her through the crowd.

Standing at the bar, the detectives surveyed the large, dimly lit room. "I don't see her," said Bobby.

"I'll check the bathroom," Eames offered and headed toward the back of the bar. 

After determining the ambiguous pink light indicated the ladies room, Alex quickly ducked her head inside just long enough to observe Cassandra primping in front of a mirror. Alex then returned to the bar, where Bobby had ordered himself a beer and Alex a vile-looking purple concoction. 

"What's this?" she demanded, looking at the drink with distaste.

Bobby shrugged and blamed the bartender. "He suggested it. Apparently, it's the latest thing."  
  


Alex reached over and took a sip of her partner's beer, letting him know exactly what she thought of the 'latest thing.'

Bobby grinned.

"You did that on purpose!" Alex accused. "Evil man!"

"Did you find her?" Bobby asked changing the subject to avoid Alex's wrath.

"She's in the bathroom," Alex replied quickly. "And now you owe me breakfast _and_ a drink."

"You're getting awfully demanding, you know, Eames," Bobby bantered back.

He was seated on a barstool, but Alex chose to remain standing. Bobby was still taller than she was, but the difference was less pronounced. 

"Over there." Alex nudged Bobby as Cassandra emerged from the bathroom and spoke briefly to a group of friends before moving towards the bar.

"Where?"

"Twelve feet and closing." Alex automatically turned her back to their suspect and tried to shield Bobby from Cassandra's line of sight while he tracked her movements.

Spotting their target advancing, Bobby swiftly reached an arm around Alex's waist and pulled her into his lap. He leant in until their foreheads were almost touching and locked eyes with her. "Don't look around," he murmured, his breath warm on her face.

"Hey, Jimmy," Cassandra called to the bartender, "three more of the usual."

"Detectives," a glossy voice greeted them as Cassandra sidled over while waiting for her drinks. "Come here often?" she asked with a smirk.  
  


_Damn_, thought Alex, dragging her eyes away from Bobby to face Cassandra. But great job with the makeup, she couldn't help noticing. The younger woman's bruise was barely detectable.

Maintaining a casual manner, Bobby kept one arm around Alex's waist and reached for his beer with the other.

Cassandra's eyes followed his every move. "Big hands, nice," she winked at Alex as the bartender placed three glasses, all filled with the same purple liquid as Alex's, on the bar. "Don't work too hard," she said before sauntering off, drinks in hand. 

Alex sighed. _Well that little encounter pretty much ended our night._ She moved to stand up but found Bobby's arm still around her waist.

"Bobby?"

"Hmm?" he murmured absently.

"You can let go now."

"Oh, right." Slightly embarrassed, he released his grip.

"Well that was a bust," Alex said. "No point hanging around now. She's hardly going to do anything incriminating knowing we're watching." 

Bobby agreed, but looked disappointed. Alex took one last look in their suspect's direction as they made their way to the exit. This girl's cocky attitude was really starting to piss her off. 

"Hang on, who's she talking to?" Alex grasped Bobby's arm, bringing them both to a stop.

A young man had joined the group and was engaged in deep, serious-looking conversation with Cassandra. She looked anxiously in the direction of the bar where Bobby and Alex had previously been sitting before hustling the young man into a secluded corner to conduct a brief, tense-looking exchange, which ended when Cassandra patted him on the cheek and then returned to her friends. Her companion disappeared into the crowd. 

"Did he look familiar to you?" Bobby asked Alex, as they made their way back to the car.

She shook her head. "Nope, why? Do you know him from somewhere?"

"I'm not sure." Bobby stored the information for later processing and turned his attention to Alex.

She pulled a ticket off the windshield and handed it to him. "I believe this is yours."

*  *  *  *

The next morning, Detectives Goren and Eames were discussing strategies for identifying the man they'd seen speaking to Cassandra Stamios the night before. 

"We could go back to the bar and ask around," Goren suggested as they approached Deakins's office.

"Or we could just go in there and ask him his name, then take the rest of the day off."

Goren joined his partner staring through the glass into the captain's office. Waiting there with Laura Matthews was the young man from the bar. An older man in a business suit was also present.

_Of course_, Bobby thought, mentally kicking himself for not realizing it earlier. Add six or seven years and the man from the bar last night was the teenage boy from the photograph in Dennis Ryder's living room. No wonder he looked so familiar.

"Detectives, this is Dennis's son, Sam, and our attorney, Edward Griffiths," Laura Matthews made the introductions. 

Both Goren and Eames studied Sam Ryder curiously as they exchanged greetings.

"Mr. Griffiths has promised to bring us a copy of Mr. Ryder's will tomorrow," Deakins told Goren and Eames.

"There are just a couple of things I need to check," Edwards Griffiths explained.

"Do you have any leads on who killed Dennis?" Laura asked anxiously.

"We're working on it," Eames promised vaguely.

"We'd like to speak to Sam alone," Goren added.

"Why?" the young man asked nervously.

"Just routine," Goren assured him. "We've already spoken to Ms. Matthews."

"I have to go and pick up Jenny from the airport anyway," Laura said. She and Edward promptly excused themselves and Deakins offered to walk them out.

"So, how do you know Cassandra Stamios?" Goren asked conversationally, once he and Eames were alone with Sam Ryder.

"I don't."

"Sure you do," Bobby encouraged.

"No, I don't," Sam repeated.

"Blonde, about 5'5. Nice figure. Ring any bells?" Goren prompted.

Sam shrugged.

"You were talking to her last night at Bella Rina?"    
  


Rightly sensing that his denial wasn't going to be accepted, Sam promptly changed his tune. "Oh, right. Yeah, I know Cas. What does she have to do with this?"

"She found your father's body. She didn't think to mention that during your little chat?" asked Eames.

"No. Ah, she's never met my father. She had no way of knowing it was him." Sam seemed pleased with his explanation.  
  


"So you didn't tell her that your father had been killed that morning?" 

"Uh, no."

"Well that's strange." Goren paused thoughtfully. "Let me get this straight." He prowled the room, gesturing emphatically as he spoke. "Yesterday, you receive a call that your father had been murdered; so, naturally, you promise to drive back to the city straight away. When you arrive, instead of going directly home, you stop by a bar to see a girl." Bobby paused and looked pointedly at Sam before continuing. "Maybe that's understandable. You're distraught over the death of your father, so you seek comfort in your girlfriend."

"She's not my girlfriend," Sam said quickly. "Cas is just a friend."

"Either way, it's understandable. Only, you don't tell her about your father's death. What _did_ the two of you talk about, Sam?" Goren asked, towering over the seated interviewee.

"Um, nothing. Nothing special. Just a general conversation, y'know?"

"Just general conversation," Goren nodded knowingly and looked to Eames.

"Where were you yesterday morning between six and seven?" she asked Sam.

"I was staying with friends." 

"Can your 'friends' confirm this?" 

"Yes," Sam stated firmly, before looking around nervously. "Should Edward be present for this?" he asked.

"We can call him back if you want," Eames offered. "But I think that's all the questions we have for you at the moment."

*  *  *  *

"That guy is one of the worst liars I've ever seen," Alex declared. She was perched on the edge of Bobby's desk, watching Sam walk out, talking furiously on his cell phone.

"She's obviously the brains of the operation," Bobby agreed.

"So you think they're in it together?" 

"It's a workable set-up," Bobby mused. "He's out of town at the time of the murder, and she has no obvious connection to the victim. Laura Matthews didn't recognize Cassandra's name, so whatever their relationship is, Sam hasn't introduced her to the family. I'm guessing Cassandra wasn't supposed to be caught with the body, but she covered that fairly smoothly. There were no fingerprints on the knife, nothing to suggest she was anything other than an innocent passerby."

"But if she were in the right position and caught Ryder off guard, it's physically possible," Eames decided. "Now all we have to do is prove it." 

"Let's get Ms. Stamios back in here."

"Detective Goren?" A young officer approached the pair somewhat timidly. "We've just had an anonymous tip off about the Ryder case." He handed over a slip of paper with an address on it. 

"That's near Columbia," Bobby commented.

"Sam Ryder goes there," Alex noted, "but what would it have to do with anything?" she wondered suspiciously.

Bobby shrugged. "I don't know, but it can't hurt to check it out." He was hoping to find some concrete evidence to confront Cassandra Stamios with.

"Okay," Alex checked her watch. "But if it takes longer than an hour, you owe me lunch."

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

AN: Sorry it's been a while between chapters. Thanks once again go to Tracy and Marie for beta-ing. 

Part Three 

"This doesn't feel right," Alex said as she and Bobby stood outside a storage facility. "The tip off was probably just a prank."

"But what if it wasn't?" Using the key they'd picked up from the manager on the way over, Bobby let them into the seemingly deserted building. "Eames, over here," Goren stood triumphantly in front of a door with the name D. Ryder beside it. "Who wanted to leave?" he goaded Alex playfully.

Ignoring her partner's gloating, Alex stood on tiptoe to join him in peering through the small, barred window in the door into the darkness of the room beyond. She couldn't see a damn thing. Dropping back down on her heels, Alex quickly moved to expertly pick the padlock on the door and slid the bolt across. She then cautiously pushed open the door, half-expecting something to leap out at her. Once inside, Alex took her hand off the door to search for a light switch and the door immediately snapped back at her. Bobby's arm shot out to stop the door just before it hit Alex in the face.

"Dangerous," Bobby commented with a slight frown. He followed Alex into the room and let the door slam shut behind them.

The room was relatively large, yet stuffy, and scattered with paintings.

"How did we not know about this place?" Alex wondered aloud.

Bobby walked over to an easel with a half-finished painting on it. "I'm not sure, but somebody was using it as a studio, and I don't think Dennis Ryder was particularly artistic." Goren cocked his head to the side and examined the painting thoughtfully. "It's not bad." 

Alex shrugged. She'd never been a great admirer of abstract art. "You wouldn't hang it on your walls though."

Bobby looked over at her and smiles were exchanged. This was a conversation they'd had before. 

"Some day I am going to take you museum-hopping," Bobby said before resuming his inspection of the artworks. Closer examination confirmed the same indecipherable scrawl was signed in the bottom left hand corner of all the paintings.

Bobby handed Alex a dry paintbrush and indicated to the half-finished work on the nearest easel. "Pretend you're going to sign your name." 

Alex instinctively moved to the lower right-hand corner, and knew instantly where Bobby was heading with the question.

"Lefty," she said.

"Yup," Bobby said, almost proudly. "We are very special."

Further examination of the room revealed nothing to indicate the identity of the artist, until Bobby retrieved a watch from the top of a cupboard full of art supplies.

"That's the Rolex Cassandra Stamios was wearing the day we interviewed her," Eames said.

"And if you're going to splash paint around, you'd take off an expensive watch."

"Think this is her studio?"

"Let's go ask her."

Alex made for the door, twisted the handle and pulled. The door didn't budge. Alex tried again with no success, then looked to Bobby, who switched places with her and took his turn tugging on the door. 

"It's locked," Bobby said needlessly.

Alex's eyes widened. "No." She nudged Bobby out of the way and peered through the bars in the small window. All she could see was an empty hallway. 

Alex looked over her shoulder at Bobby. "Help me out here?" she appealed to him while once again tugging vainly at the door handle.  
  


But Bobby recognized an exercise in futility when he saw one. "The door bolts from the outside," he reminded her.

"There is no way that happened by accident."  
  


More anxious to first find a way out, then worry about who had locked them in, Alex performed a rapid search of the room that revealed no other viable exits. 

"Damn," Alex muttered. She pulled out her cell phone and began punching in numbers, "No, no, no. Please, no." she begged the phone. "Damn it!"

"Flat battery?" Bobby asked. "You need me around for something…" his voice trailed off as he searched his pockets.

"No phone?"

"It must be in the car." 

Alex practically growled.

"This was set up," Bobby concluded.

"You missed the glaring sign and flashing neon lights?" Alex was *extremely* pissed off. "I am going to kill that girl!"

Bobby looked at her, slightly bemused. It wasn't that the thought of her actually killing someone was so inconceivable. No, Bobby knew she was more than capable; he was just surprised to see her getting so worked up over a case. 

"We question her boyfriend; he makes a call. Bam! We're trapped in a warehouse. 'Prophet of disaster' is right!" Alex muttered while desperately searching the room for a hidden trap door or a stick of dynamite. No such luck.

"If Cassandra Stamios did set this up, what could she possibly hope to achieve?" Bobby wondered. "By using the warehouse, she's giving us information."

"She probably figured we'd find it anyway, and there's nothing to link her to it."

"Except the watch," Bobby mused.

"Right. Well maybe she thinks we'll die of hunger. Or heat exhaustion." Alex vented her frustration by ramming her heel against the door. 

"She's just messing with us," Bobby said slowly and decisively. "She wants us to feel vulnerable. _She_ is trying to play _us_." 

"Ironic, huh?" Alex exhaled deeply and let her head drop back so she was staring at the roof. "Hey, Goren." Alex pointed excitedly to an air vent in the ceiling. Hope.

"Help me up." Alex kicked off her shoes and stepped up onto a wobbly chair she positioned underneath the vent.

Great day to wear a skirt, Eames, Alex chastised her self silently. She didn't often wear skirts to work, as they were seriously impractical at crime scenes, but today, despite her wardrobe full of black pants, it had felt too hot to wear anything more than the camel colored skirt. She mentally cursed the hot weather, Cassandra and Sam, and the world in general.

"Ready?" Bobby asked.

Alex nodded and stepped into the palms of her partner's hands and he boosted her toward the air vent.

"You know, if the whole detective thing doesn't work out, we could always join the circus," Alex suggested, while trying to balance a knee on his shoulder.

"Nice to see you haven't completely lost your sense of humor."

After some scrambling, Alex reached the air vent and began tugging furiously, but the cover was stuck fast. The only result of her pulling was an unidentifiable substance cascading over both them. Coughing, Alex slid down the length of her partner's body until her feet were firmly planted on the ground once more. 

"What is this stuff?" Alex wiped her mouth with a look of disgust on her face.

Bobby ran a hand through his hair then sniffed the dark gray substance. "I think-"  
  


"No, wait," Alex cut him off, "I don't think I want to know."

Walking over to a sink in the corner of the room, Bobby loosened his tie and pulled off his shirt. After rinsing his shirt out, Bobby hung it neatly over an empty easel to dry and Alex took his place at the sink. She washed her face, ran damp hands through her hair, then cleaned her clothes the best she could.

"The air vent would never have worked anyway," Bobby said.

"I know, because this isn't an action movie, right?" Alex turned as she responded and Bobby immediately turned to face a wall. Alex looked down and realized splashing copious amounts of water over a white blouse probably wasn't the best idea she'd had all day. She sighed. Once again, the words 'kill' and 'Cassandra' floated around in her head. There was actually quite a ring to it, Alex decided. She walked over to where Bobby was standing and sat down on the floor with her back against the wall and knees to her chest.

"You don't have to stand there staring at the wall all day," Alex told her partner. After all, it wasn't his fault she'd inadvertently decided to enter a wet t-shirt contest.  

Bobby sat down next to her, leant back against the wall and stretched out his long legs.

Alex checked her watch.

"I know, I owe you lunch." Bobby said it before she could and Alex smiled.

"I have you so well trained."

"Yeah, that's just what I want you to think. Hey," Bobby looked at her seriously, "you okay?"

"Yeah. I mean, being trapped in a confined space in serious need of air-conditioning is not exactly what I had planned for today, but everyone knows where we are. Someone will come looking for us soon enough," Alex reasoned sensibly. "So, this case isn't making a whole lot of sense to me," she admitted. "We know that Dennis Ryder was renting this space for someone, probably a left-hander, possibly Cassandra Stamios, to use as a studio." 

Bobby picked up the thread. "And Cassandra Stamios knows Sam Ryder, but they both claim she never met his father. Laura Matthews says Dennis never mentioned Cassandra. She also knows nothing about this space rented under his name. But apparently Cassandra does."

"If we can take the watch as evidence she was here. And that still doesn't lead us any closer to a motive for murder."

"Money?" Bobby suggested.

"Okay, say Sam wanted his father dead for the inheritance, how is Cassandra involved? I just don't see him as the type to talk or bully Cassandra into killing someone, especially his own father."

"I'd believe she's the brains behind the whole thing," said Bobby. "But then the bruise on her cheek is still a mystery."

"She definitely didn't want to talk about it," Alex agreed. "Could it have come from Dennis Ryder in self defence? – If she killed him," Alex added quickly.  
  


Bobby shook his head. "There would have been more signs of a struggle on both of them. And if he had any idea what was coming he shouldn't have had too much trouble overpowering her. He was a fit guy, and she can't weigh more than 120 pounds." He sighed. "We still have more questions than answers." 

Alex figured that was as close as Bobby came to admitting he was stumped. "Maybe we'll know more when we get a copy of the will," she suggested.

They lapsed into companionable silence, until Bobby asked, "What does that look like to you?" His head was cocked to the side, eyes focused on a large painting.

"The remains of someone's breakfast?" Alex guessed. Well it did.

"Look at it sideways."

Alex cocked her head to the right until it hit Bobby's shoulder. "What am I looking for?" she asked finally.

"The apple core in the egg. The egg is fragile, like the heart."

"So it's supposed to symbolize a knife in a heart?" 

"Maybe."  
  


"What about the spaghetti? Intestines? And the pink and blue checked fish swimming around the outside?"

"Okay, so maybe it's a stretch," Bobby admitted.

Alex smiled. So it _was_ possible for his brilliant mind to overexert. "Bobby, sometimes an egg is just an egg."

"But it makes you think."

"And it's possible to think too hard."

"Mmm," Bobby replied noncommittally. He murmured something about Occam's razor, more to himself than her, and continued to stare at the painting.

Unoffended, Alex let him be. The minutes ticked by and her head remained on Bobby's shoulder. He didn't complain and she simply couldn't be bothered moving it. He was a whole lot more comfortable than the wall.

Alex found herself assessing the situation and let out a short laugh. The atmosphere was sultry, and she was leaning against her partner's sweaty, half-naked body. This was as close to sex as she'd been in some months.

"What's so funny?" Bobby asked, his attention fully focused on his partner once more.

"Nothing," Alex blushed.  
  


"Come on." He prodded her sides, making her squirm and laugh more.

"I'm definitely not telling you now."

  
He tickled her some more. Alex writhed and ended up half lying across his lap.

Bobby's fingers continued to move up and down her sides, no longer tickling, so much as stroking softly through the thin material of her blouse.

Despite the heat, Alex shivered. _Move_, she told herself. But she had neither the will nor the energy to pull away.

"Hello? Anyone here?"  
  


Alex jumped up as though someone had thrown a bucket of cold water over her. 

A security guard was peering through the tiny window in the door.

"We're in here," Alex called. 

"You the detectives? I got a call."

"Yes, thank you," Alex said gratefully as the man opened the door.

The security guard grinned at them.

Alex knew she was a mess with her shirt untucked and the top button undone, and Bobby looked equally disheveled with his shirt done up crookedly in haste.

"There's a bathroom down the hall," the guard suggested.

Alex thanked him again and quickly left the room without a backward glance.

"It's going to take at least an hour to get back down town at this time of day," Alex complained once they were safely back in the car. 

"That'll leave us just enough time for a chat with Ms Stamios." Bobby found his phone and began making calls to set it up.

*  *  *  *

"Our adventure today?" Alex asked Bobby just before they were due to interview Cassandra Stamios.

"She'll want us to bite, so we give her what she wants. Lure the enemy into a false sense of security. Let her think she's in control."

"Thank you, Sun Tzu," Alex said.

They entered the interview with Bobby grinning internally at her teasing. "Ms Stamios, thank you for coming in." He greeted their suspect with complete seriousness and formality.

Cassandra skipped the pleasantries. "What's this about?"

"We just have a few more questions for you." Rifling frantically through his notes, Goren was the picture of incompetence.

"Make it quick."

"Right, sorry." Goren gave an apologetic smile for his disorganization. "Where were you today between, say, 11 and 1?" he asked.  
  


"I was shopping."

"Uh. Huh. And, um, can anyone confirm that?" Goren asked.  
  


"I was alone." The suspect appeared bored.

"Receipts?" Goren suggested, eyes bright, nervous façade dropped.

"I didn't buy anything. What's this about?" Cassandra looked to Eames, somewhat put off by the change in Goren's demeanor.  
  


"Did you know Dennis Ryder kept space in a storage facility in Morningside Heights?" Eames asked.  
  


"No. I told you, I didn't know the guy."

"But you know his son," Bobby prompted.

"Yes, I know Sam. Bizarre coincidence." 

"Does this look familiar?" Goren held up an evidence bag containing the Rolex and tossed it casually to Cassandra.

She caught the bag deftly in her left hand, glanced briefly at the contents and shrugged.

"You were wearing one exactly like it when we first interviewed you."

"So?"

"Unusual choice for a young woman," Bobby commented.

"It belonged to an ex-boyfriend. Sentimental value, y'know?"

"Expensive watch. Rich boyfriend?" asked Alex.  
  


"He probably brought it on a street corner."

"Well this one is real, we checked. And it's identical to one you were sporting the other day. We also checked the security cameras here," Bobby bluffed.

"So I got a good fake." Cassandra continued to run them in circles.

"Do you still have this watch?" Alex asked.

"Of course."

"Then you won't mind bringing it in tomorrow."

"Fine," Cassandra agreed through clenched teeth. "Is that all?"

"Not quite. Are you aware that unlawful imprisonment is a felony?" Goren asked. 

Cassandra gave him a look that said '_so?_'

Goren proceeded to explain how the two detectives had been trapped in the warehouse earlier that day.

Cassandra smirked. "Maybe you pissed someone off. It could be their way of warning you to back off." 

"Is that a threat?" Alex asked.  
  


"It's an interpretation. I have another one, if you're interested. Maybe the two of you just wanted to spent some 'quality' time together and now you're trying to blame it on me. Does your boss know you're sleeping together?" Cassandra asked in a sickly-sweet tone. "What would happen to your careers if he did?"

Alex turned to Bobby with a confused look that he knew well. She often used it on suspects to great effect, only this time her confusion was genuine, and Bobby had a feeling his own expression was remarkably similar. But he responded only with a shrug to indicate they should play along.

Cassandra watched the exchange and appeared satisfied that she'd been able to rattle them.

Acting embarrassed, Eames ignored Cassandra's question and swiftly changed the subject. "We wanted to ask you a few more questions about Sam Ryder. How long have you known him?"  
  


Cassandra shrugged. "A few months."

"Are you close?"  
  


"We're friends. But I wouldn't say we were close, no."

"And after learning of his father's death, Sam went to a bar to find you. Why?" Eames asked. 

"He wanted to talk."

"To someone he's not particularly close to?" Goren interjected.

"Some guys get the wrong impression." Cassandra gave a shrug that said 'what can you do?'

"And you failed to mention that you were the one who found his father dead?"  
  


"I didn't know the guy was Sam's father."

"That's very hard to believe, Ms Stamios," Goren shook his head and circled the table. "But we'll move on for now. Sam didn't look particularly upset that night."

"Are you familiar with the opponent process theory, Detectives?" Cassandra's eyes followed him around the room.

"Enlighten us," Goren suggested.

"Emotional responses often include an initial emotional reaction followed by an after reaction of the opposite emotion. I think you make the connection to Sam's situation." 

Goren nodded. "That's an interesting theory, Ms Stamios. Thank you for your time."

"I can go?" She seemed surprised to be let off so easily.

"You can go," Goren confirmed. "But we'll see you tomorrow with that watch."

"Of course. I look forward to it." Cassandra left the room with one final smirk.

*  *  *  *   

What do you think?" Alex asked Bobby as they made their way to Deakins' office.

"Well, for one, she completely misunderstands that theory. It's used to explain things like drug addiction and withdrawal, not inappropriate emotional responses," he said. "She's young and arrogant, sprouting off something she heard in psych 101. Who does she think she is?"

"You?" Alex suggested with a tiny smirk before holding her hands up in defense. "Kidding." But Alex couldn't resist a final jab, "She's so much prettier," she said, entering the Captain's office before Bobby had a chance to respond. 

Deakins handed Alex a file. "Copy of Dennis Ryder's will," he explained. "He recently had it altered to include a woman named Naomi Cisco. I checked with Laura Matthews, and she's never heard of her. See what you can find out."

*  *  *  *

"Anything?" Alex asked wearily.  
  


"Nothing that could possibly be relevant. Our Naomi Cisco must have changed her name," Bobby concluded.

Alex checked her watch. "It's close to nine, let's call it a day."  
  


Bobby agreed. "You hungry?" he asked.  
  


"Sure. You offering to start working off your debt? One dinner can count as both breakfast and lunch," Alex proposed.

Despite his reservations about the validity of this 'debt,' Bobby readily agreed, and soon both detectives were arguing good-naturedly about where to go for dinner while they waited for the elevator.

TBC


End file.
